Yesterday, I finished watching the second disc of LOVE FOR LYDIA, so I'm ready for Episode 8, which Netflix will hopefully send on Tuesday. I'm enjoying it, even if our heroine's a rich amoral slut and our narrator an idiot for putting up with her. There are tons of dances and parties, so it's sort of like a 20th Century Jane Austen novel, if, say, Jane were writing about one of the adulterous sisters in MANSFIELD PARK or PERSUASION whose reputations are damaged beyond repair. Lydia's now set her sites on the low-class, but very handsome, taxi driver, after hot and heavy action with the narrator and intensely leading on the young men played by Peter Davison and Jeremy Irons, which I expect to continue through Episode 13.
When that ended, I watched LET ME IN, the American remake of the Swedish vampire film LET THE RIGHT ONE IN. Both films follow the wonderful novel closely, but both films have a strange approach to the novel and present "Scenes from the Novel LET THE RIGHT ONE IN": it's like reading the book in smoke signals, with clear pictures, then some illegible things, and you hope you've pieced it together well. The book is like a direct punch to the face.